


to define is to limit

by junesqued



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-01
Updated: 2014-12-01
Packaged: 2018-02-27 16:58:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2700452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/junesqued/pseuds/junesqued
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of ficlets, dedicated to the webseries 'Carmilla'.  Predominantly Carmilla/Laura.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Mornin'

The light waves from their window, illuminating greetings to a Sunday morning.  Laura feels a soft shuffling in her bed: a presence of winter warmth tangled perfectly with her own.   _Carmilla_.  She edges closer, engulfing in the scent that is like a starry night.  The thumping sound of her heartbeat begins its waltz with the calm breathing against her skin.  Her eyes fluttered open slowly – expectantly.

“Mornin’, cupcake.”

Her soothing, bewitching voice speaks volumes of comfort (and definitely better than any annoying alarm chirps), Laura realizes.  She can get used to this.

“Morning, Carm.”

Laura watches as Carmilla’s eyes flicker with a soft glow of affection and disbelief.  A disbelief that this, the manner in which they are linked physically and emotionally, is real.  Laura returns her gaze with reassurance.

She leans in and kisses Carmilla, slowly, patiently, chastely, as if they have all the time in the world.  As if mortality is no dire.  As if oblivion is evitable.  As if now is forever.

“Sweet,” Carmilla whispers, smiling between their fleeting touches.

“Well, I _did_ have chocolate for dinner,” Laura says, pulling back to press their foreheads together. 

They carry each other’s scent now – Laura with Carmilla’s, and Carmilla with hers.  (Or maybe it’s because Carmilla has been using _her_ shampoo.  Not that she minds anymore.)

“Do you want to…?”

Carmilla plants a kiss on her cheek.  “Maybe later, sweetheart.”

“Okay,” Laura agrees, snuggling closer.

They ignore the seeping light from their window.  They ignore the bustling noise in the hall.  They ignore everything that is not each other.  Staying silent, they fall in and out of dreams, grasping hold of a hope that this reality will stay for one moment longer.

Laura embraces Carmilla like she is the sun on a freezing day, and Carmilla gazes at Laura like she is the only star left in the night.

They sleep soundly as the morning wakes.


	2. Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post episode 26.

“ _Monster._ ”

It cries – _screeching –_ like nails on a chalkboard inking scratches and raking scars. 

_No._

It swallows sanity and feeds on guilt, tossing fears like darts and casting blame like rain at the prowling creature–

“I trusted you-… _monster_ …”

night after night.

_No, please, you don’t understand-_

It is a wound that burns for centuries, leaving time at the mercy of its chains and scorch marks on undead skin.

“Stay away from me, _monster_.”

The tide of blood rises higher. 

The scream grows louder.

The white dress stains deeper – drenched in sin.

_Listen to me, please._

Blinding escapes and muting pleads, it drowns in crimson.

“ _Monster._ ”

It haunts of a deafening cry.

 “…Carm…”

_Please stop._

It speaks truth.

 “You’re a _monster_!”

 “…Carmilla…”

_No!_

“…Carmilla, wake up!”

Carmilla’s eyes shot opened.  There is no more white dress and no more red.  There is light and a sweet scent of candles and cookies and cupcakes.  She nervously pulls away the sweat-drenched strands from her face and frantically runs her palm against her ear, as if she can still hear the piercing whispers.  She struggles to breathe. 

There are tender pats on her back now.

“Hey, it’s just a bad dream,” the soft voice reminds her. 

Carmilla looks up knowingly – in utter relief – at the lovely endearment that has been her saving grace: Laura. 

The young girl’s expressions, however, border between worried and pained.  She is flinching.

Carmilla looks down and panics at the realization that she has been – for who knows how long – forcefully seizing Laura’s hand within her instinctive vampiric strength.  There are vibrant red marks and imprints of her sharp nails on the girl’s skin.

Carmilla withdraws her grip and tries to pull away, but Laura clenches on.

“It’s fine.  I’m okay,” she says, gently running her thumb against Carmilla’s fingers in soothing strokes and smiling reassuringly.

 “I’m sorry.”  The vampire glances away, ashamed.  It has been the second time she has hurt Laura.

Laura shakes her head.  She reaches out to brush Carmilla’s bangs aside, revealing somber eyes hinting tears.  She wipes away the wet tinges on the latter’s pale skin and cleans the smears from the brooding eyeliner. 

“How are you feeling?”

“Better,” Carmilla admits, relaxing into Laura’s touches.

“Did you see–…Was it–” Laura pauses, hesitating, “Was it…her?  Was it Ell?”

Carmilla tenses again.  She stares at Laura and wants to _lie_. 

Avoid the talk.  Forget the dream.  Play more pretend.

But the images are only getting clearer with each passing minute.  The truth is bare.

“No, it was not her.”

“Oh,” Laura responds and releases the breath she doesn’t even know she has been holding.  “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not now.”

Laura understands, like she always does somehow.  “I’ll go make us some hot chocolate.” 

She stands up and Carmilla immediately sulks at the loss of contact.  But when Laura presses a quick kiss on her forehead, unannounced, both find themselves amused and pleasantly surprised.

Carmilla smirks.  “Aren’t you concerned what your ‘viewers’ may say about this, cutie?”

A blush creeps on Laura’s face, betraying her best interests to hide her embarrassment.  “The camera is off.”

“Oh, _really_ now?”

She wants to tug Laura forward and kiss her right then and there, but a part of her is reluctant and very much afraid.  (Right now, reality doesn’t kindly permit such advances.)

Laura wordlessly retreats to the back of the room and Carmilla’s eyes follow her movements.  Once the other girl’s back was turned, Carmilla drops her grin and seeps back the frown.

The dream is not shaking off.

The white dress.  The blood. 

What was supposed to be recollection of her past is not a memory at all.

Like a shriek sharpening of a stake, Carmilla hears the echoes haunting her, beating against her veins like poison. 

The echoes are no longer Ell’s.

And this nightmare is a murder worse than her death.

_“You’re a monster,” Laura says._


End file.
